


Only Just Begun

by ladyknightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:29:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightley/pseuds/ladyknightley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andromeda reflects on the way her life--and family--has changed, for her first Christmas as Mrs Tonks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Slade song. Obvs ;)

“...got to be that she’s pregnant, there’s no other reason for them to get married when they did...”

“...but look at her stomach, there’s no extra weight there. And she’s dead scrawny, you know it’d show straight away.”

“They only got married in the summer, though, she might not be showing yet—”

“No, she would be. But it’s funny, you know, _I_ heard it was a quick thing in some Registrar Office in _London_ , of all places!”

“Oh, she’s definitely not one of us. You’re right about that.”

“She’s not like Ted, neither. And there’s got to be some reason he married her straight out of that funny school he went to. I knew boarding school was a bad idea. I told Mary that when he won that scholarship when he were eleven. You mark my words, I told her, there’ll be trouble! He’ll come back here with ideas above his station, you know.”

“And she ent half above his station—you can bet she got herself knocked up and her rich daddy wanted nothing to do with it—”

“Oh, Judy, shush!”

Logically, Andromeda knew, being talked about should hurt. She should care about what Ted’s family were saying about her; should be blinking back tears or maybe lashing out. That was what they expected of her: hysterics, snobbery, rudeness. An inability to cope, or to Be Like Them.

And it wasn’t wanting to prove them wrong that stopped her from doing any of that. It was that nothing they could say would ever be as bad as what her own family had done.

When your parents refused to acknowledge your existence anymore, when your siblings acted like there had only ever been two of them, like your entire life up to that point could be erased, like you were nothing, nothing, _nothing_ to any of them, it gave you a sense of perspective, she felt. There was little else that could hurt her. That had been rock bottom. Nothing else really touched the sides.

“...’course, it could be Ted that’s to blame. You know, liking his bit of posh. I always said, you know, that school, it’s _strange_. They never told us what he studied, and—”

She still made a big show of rattling the kitchen door before she entered; the voices, particularly the loudmouth Judy, fell silent as she had suspected they would, before suddenly, loudly, talking about the weather.

“Horrible cold that we’re having,” said one of the older ladies. “It’s a bugger with my rheumatism, it really is.”

“Oooh, I know,” agreed another. “This morning I had to break the ice in my washstand. Frozen over, it had.”

Andromeda took a deep breath. She was going to have to speak to them, and pretend she hadn’t heard their speculation about her marriage. She was intimidated, a little bit, but she tried to hold on to that feeling that nothing they could possibly say would be worse than what she’d already heard from her own mother. “Excuse me, but I was told there was another tray of mince pies in here somewhere? We’re running rather low out there.”

“In the cupboard on your right,” said one of the women, and she made her way over to it. They all watched her like she was a specimen at the zoo.

She’d been introduced to them all, myriad relations and friends of the family, as they’d arrived at Ted’s parents’ house, where she lived now. His parents threw a Christmas party every year, although this was the first one she’d attended because the previous year, she and Ted hadn’t yet been together very long, and she didn’t then know how to talk around muggles without giving the game away. It was only a year ago, but it could have been a lifetime.

“This is Andromeda,” his mother had said, and she’d watched all their eyebrows creep up, because they all had normal names of just one syllable. “Our Ted’s new bride,” she’d added, and the eyebrows had gone up even further. Nobody had exactly been hostile, as such, but it was clear that she was Not One Of Them.

It was the same sort of reaction she’d got from Ted’s parents, when they’d first married. They were polite—at least to her face—but they couldn’t hide the fact that she Didn’t Fit In. It wasn’t her magic, although that didn’t help. It was everything else: her accent, her upbringing, her lifestyle, her _class_. They lived in this tightknit mining community in the north, and she’d grown up in a townhouse in Mayfair. They lived the same lives they’d lived for generations. And they had no more of an idea what to do with Andromeda than they would have with a tiger Ted had brought home to live with them.

She rather thought, too, that they would have preferred a tiger. It could, eventually, be skinned and used for something.

She was useless: she couldn’t work in the muggle world, because she didn’t know enough, and her family had enough influence in the magical world to keep her out of employment there, too. She didn’t have a house to keep, because they couldn’t yet afford anywhere on Ted’s salary, and even if they had had their own place, she didn’t yet know enough to keep it clean or to cook. She was determined to learn, determined to show his mother that she _could_ be good enough for her son.

And she was getting there. Slowly.

She hadn’t been allowed to help with the food preparation for the party—and Mary Tonks had been planning this celebration since the end of October and cooking for it since the end of November—but she _was_ allowed to serve, to fetch trays of mince pies. Which was progress.

* * *

“It was lovely to see you again,” her mother-in-law said, beaming at the red faced old man as she ushered him out into the hallway. Three times, he’d tried to pinch her bum, and once he’d nearly pulled her onto his lap, but Andromeda had just about managed to fend him off. He was, of course, yet another relative; she’d forgotten his name, but with that walrus-like moustache, he reminded her strongly of Horace Slughorn, which in turn reminded her of school, and her sisters.

“Such a delight to meet this pretty young thing!” he chuckled, leering at Andromeda. She’d been caught off guard, remembering family Christmases, and she rather garbled a lie in response about enjoying meeting him. Only a moment later, however, her mother-in-law had bundled him out of the door with a final Merry Christmas, and a huge sigh of relief once the door was closed.

Andromeda tried to supress her look of shock. This was clearly _the_ social event of Mary Tonks’s year; as far as she was aware, no one—least of all herself—was allowed to express even a second’s displeasure. “Horrible old fart, he is,” Mary said, more to herself than anything, and Andromeda let out a surprised giggle. “Oh, he _is_. He’s one of Bert’s uncles, not my side of the family of course, and more trouble than he’s worth, I can tell you. At our wedding—oh, well, I won’t get into it, it being Christmas, peace on Earth and goodwill to all I say, but the sooner he falls off his perch, the better for us all!”

Andromeda laughed aloud properly now, delighted at this sudden camaraderie with her mother-in-law, and more than happy to listen to her snub half the people who’d been so rude to her all afternoon. “And don’t even get me started on that Judy!” Mary continued. “Oooh, she’s a right one she is—not a blood relative, of course, just married in, no offence dear—but every year she comes in with her airs and her graces, picking faults. She’s so rude, she really is, honestly it’s no wonder her husband has his eye on the girl who works down the bakery!”

“She thinks I’m pregnant, and that’s the only reason Ted married me,” Andromeda confided. Mary snorted.

“Just ask her to pour you another sherry, then—if she’s left any of the bottle for anyone else,” she said. “And she can’t take a hint, can she? We’re starting the washing up, and she’s still got her bottom parked on my Bert’s armchair, gabbing away.”

“I can get that done for you in a second,” Andromeda said, pleased to finally be able to offer something. She’d been practising and practising household charms behind her mother-in-law’s back; she was now good enough to clear away everything used for a big roast on Sunday, leaving every pot and pan and surface sparkling in under thirty seconds. “Once everyone’s gone, obviously.”

“Oh, no, love, that’s fine,” replied Mary, patting her arm. “Honestly. This is my party, not yours. I’ll do it.”

“But it wouldn’t take a moment, and then—”

“No,” her mother-in-law said firmly. “I’ll do it. _You_ need to go out with my son, get yourselves down the pub and have a nice drink. He’s been itching to get you alone all afternoon.”

“There are so many people, I haven’t seen him for hours,” Andromeda said. “I don’t know where he is now.”

“He’s out back having a kick around with Trev and Colin—you know, Edie’s lads?” Andromeda nodded at this, like she knew who any of those people were. She’d been introduced to so many relatives over the day that she no longer cared about keeping their names straight. “Now, Edie’s a lovely girl,” Mary continued, “but those boys! Oh! The trouble we’ve had with ’em. Oooh, it’s been awful it has. Still. Family is family, eh?”

Andromeda wondered just what she was supposed to say to this. “Of course,” Mary continued, laughing and oblivious, “you’re part of this madness now! And you’ve married into a right old bunch, I can tell you!”

Sometimes, she thought it really might be that simple.

She’d changed her name, and exchanged one family for another. Not a Black anymore, a Tonks instead. But was she supposed to erase nearly two decades of her previous life, ignore the blood that flowed in her veins, immerse herself in this world of muggles, memorising the names and lives of the hundreds of people she’d been introduced today, in an attempt to forget the names and lives of her two sisters? There should be a balance, somehow.

At least she’d never have to balance out Christmas Days—one year with the Tonkses, one with the Blacks, she thought, and nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of it.

Her mother-in-law was now pressing her coat (coats now, not cloaks) into her arms. “Ted’s in the yard; you go out and join him.” So she did.

“Hello,” she said, waving at her husband and the two lads he was with, whose names—like so many others—had fallen out of her brain. And Ted looked up and smiled at her, and for the moment, it felt like everything else had fallen out of her brain, too.

“Hello,” he said, zooming over and pecking her on the cheek. “Ow!” One of the boys—they looked to be about fifteen or so, and she thought for one brief moment of Sirius—had thrown the football at Ted, and it had bounced off the back of his head.

“Your mother said we’re free to fly far away from here if we choose,” she said. “Would you care to join me?”

“Get your broomstick, witch, and we’ll be on our way,” he grinned. “How’s a pint down the Dog and Lamppost sound?”

“If you’re buying, lovely,” she replied.

“Can you buy me a pint, too, Ted?” asked one of the boys cheekily.

“When you’re old enough,” Ted replied. “For now, I’m going off for a drink with my good lady wife.”

“Under the thumb already,” tsked the other.

“Bye, Colin!” Ted laughed, and he gallantly opened the side gate for Andromeda. “What d’you want to do?” he asked in a much lower voice, as they began walking down the street. “Grab a broom and fly to London, go to the Leaky? Or we could apparate up to Hogsmeade if you fancied.”

“Let’s stay local,” Andromeda said, after considering for a moment. “Besides, I’ve only got muggle money in this coat.”

“Got your wand though?”

“Always,” she said, and slipped her hand inside his. She loved the feel of the ring on his third finger, and still couldn’t get over the fact that it was a promise to her. She loved the strange muggle money, too, and the anonymity that came with living among muggles. Anonymity, but not: no one knew she was a witch, but she knew most of the neighbours now, and they both waved and called hello to the people they passed on their way to the pub.

There were the Coopers, manoeuvring a Christmas tree into their home; Wendy Parkin, kissing her boyfriend on the street corner underneath some mistletoe she was holding up; Mr Riaz taking in the unsold newspapers from the stand outside his shop. Andromeda knew them all, and they all knew her. They’d never replace her family, but they were something else, something new: friends. Friends she wouldn’t have without Ted, who’d bought her so much already.

“So,” he said, after they’d said farewell to Mr Riaz and carried on down the street towards the pub, “do you want to hear some good news?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling up at him.

“You know my cousin Pete?”

“To be frank, every single one of your relatives has blurred into one at this point, so unless he has a third arm or some other similar identifying feature, no,” she said honestly.

Ted laughed. “Well, it doesn’t really matter. His role in this story is minimal: his sister’s boyfriend’s mother owns a bedsit in Doncaster, and her current tenant moves out at the end of January. Pete told me how what the rent she charges is, and we can afford it. So tomorrow, we’re going to go and look at it. If you like it, we can be out of my parents’ and into our own home before February. What d’you say?”

“Are you serious?” she asked. She’d been slowing down as he spoke, as though if she walked too fast she’d run away with his words and they wouldn’t come true, and now she came to a halt, turning around to look him in the face directly. He looked happy, happier than he had in a long time, and she felt a bubble of hope rise inside her.

“Absolutely serious,” he said. “We’re going to have our own place!”

Unable to find any words that could possibly express her own excitement, she settled for shrieking with delight and throwing her arms around her husband, and he laughed out loud, picking her up and whirling her round and round and round, and she kissed him then, slowly and deeply and truly in the middle of the street.

The door to the nearby pub banged open, spilling several men out onto the street who whistled at them good naturedly. From inside the pub, she could hear glasses clinking and people laughing, and the band belting out the refrain to Ted’s favourite song. Outside, it was growing darker, and, as she tilted her head up to kiss him again, she felt the first snowflakes start to settle on her face.

All that mattered was the man standing before her. So much had changed since last Christmas, but he hadn’t, he had always been there for her, even back when she hadn’t known he was what she needed. She didn’t know what the future would bring, but one thing was certain, it was only just beginning.  


End file.
